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“Can I ask you something?” Terry asked, the silence getting to him after a while, especially after the cookies ran out—he assumed Alfred had disappeared into the mysterious upstairs to make more or do whatever it was that butlers did—fidgeting on the cot.
Batman was preoccupied, though Terry had no idea what with because he seemed to be staring at a blank screen. Though why Terry was calling him Batman again, he didn't know. Dick had pushed off his cowl a long time ago. Terry had to wonder if the guy was comfortable with it, because he did seem to take it off all the time and he got the sense from Bruce that when Wayne was Batman, he only took the mask off when he had to.
“Hmm?”
“Do you always spend this much time in the batcave, or is it just because I'm down here?”
“The manor is like a tomb,” Dick answered, frowning at his own words.
“You should see it in the future. Wayne doesn't use most of it, doesn't dust it or maintain it. I think he may as well live down here.”
“That's Bruce all right,” Dick said, leaning back in the chair and closing his eyes. Terry's head hurt too much before, but now that it's quiet and they're alone, he realized something—Dick was exhausted. It was all over the guy, but not that physical kind of exhaustion that came from a bad fight—or even a good one—but the other kind, the kind his mom wore and he'd seen in Dana and Max and Commissioner Gordon, the emotional kind. He didn't think Wayne ever felt that, and if he did, he sure didn't show it.
“You're not schway, are you?”
“Maybe we should say I'm not feeling the aster,” Dick said, laughing a little. “Don't ask. It was this thing once with an old team. I think it was Wally's fault. I'll blame Wally. Sounds good.”
Terry started to ask who Wally was, and then he remembered the way Dick had reacted to him asking about Jason and stopped himself. Besides, there was something more important he should already have asked, but maybe he'd been too scared. Maybe he didn't want to know. “Can I ask—”
“You know asking a question about asking a question is already a question so the whole idea is redundant. Or is it an oxymoron? Something like that. Babs would know. Or the Riddler. I think he's the one that pointed it out to me when I was still Robin,” Dick said, and Terry blinked for a minute before the other man smiled at him. “Sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt. I suppose you want the elephant in the room out of the way, don't you?”
“Um, yes, that would be good,” Terry said, feeling kind of stupid. Things were a lot better when the cookies could distract them. “Why is Bruce not Batman?”
“He's dead.”
“What?”
Dick grimaced. “Sorry. Should have prepared you for that one. I just—I can't always say it. And half the time we can't discuss it. The public doesn't know he's gone, not as Batman or as Bruce, and that can be... difficult.”
Terry folded his arms over his chest. “Is that really how you talk to Robin?”
Dick laughed. “No. Not really. You'd have to know a lot more about him to understand half of our interactions, and most people don't. I don't even understand it half the time, and I know that Tim...”
Terry watched Dick slump in the chair, looking more like an overgrown child than Batman, but the part that actually got to him was how Dick managed to keep most of his body in the chair despite his position. He was a contortionist, not quite on Inque's level, but she wasn't exactly human, either.
“What about Tim?”
Dick looked like he was about to say something, but then he shook his head, changing his mind. “It's nothing. I shouldn't even get into it.”
“I do know about Tim,” Terry reminded him. “I know all about what happened to Tim and why he stopped being Robin and why he—”
“You don't,” Dick interrupted. “You don't know anything about Tim, so leave it alone. Tim is not a topic for discussion around here.”
“I see the excuses about needing to be closer to town were a lie,” another voice said. “The truth comes out—the real reason you moved your operation to Wayne Tower was so you could talk about me behind my back. You should have stayed there.”
Terry jerked, whirling around behind him and trying not to stare at the kid walking up in the red suit. “Another twip. What the hell? Where did you even come from?”
“There are several entrances to the batcave, which you would know if you were really Batman instead of the cheapest of imitations,” Robin said, his voice still full of scorn as he came down the stairs. “Even Drake was better at imitating Father than you are.”
Terry put a hand to his head. That Robin was Bruce's son? That dreg was his half-brother? He could almost see it because he found Matt almost as annoying, but what the hell?
“You really need to work on your awareness of your surroundings,” Dick told him. “You not only missed the sound of Red Robin's cycle but you also missed the sound of the door above the stairs. Wait.”
Dick made a few motions with his hands, and Terry frowned. He shook his head. “Is that sign language? I'm not deaf. Not that Shriek didn't try, and he did deafen me once, but it was temporary.”
“Unlike your stupidity, which seems permanent.”
“Hey!” Terry said. “You don't even know me, you little brat and don't think I can't—”
“Don't.” Dick only said the one word, but his command tone was not far from Bruce's, and he managed to get them all to at least pause in their actions. Damian glared at him, Red Robin shook his head, and Terry just kind of stared. Since when had he started taking orders from Dick? He'd said he wouldn't be the sidekick, but he was acting like one, wasn't he?
“I did hear a vague rumor about another Batman.”
“Is that why you're back?” Dick asked, moving out of the way to let Tim—Terry was going with Tim—at the computer.
“It's not like I'd make it a social call.”
“Damn it, Tim—”
“The pretense of social interaction is the only reason why he would be here,” Robin said. “He is of no use otherwise.”
“Damian—”
“Did you not think so when you chose me for Robin over him?” Robin asked, looking at Tim like he was an insect. “He was unworthy of the role so you took it from him as you rightfully should have. There is only room for one sidekick.”
“Oh, yeah?” Tim asked. “What do you call that guy, Damian? Don't you realize how easy it is for Robin to be replaced? Bruce did it to Dick, he did it to Jason, Dick did it to me—hell, Bruce did it to me, with Stephanie of all people—and now it's your turn. You're the one that doesn't fit in here. You were grown as a sick experiment and—”
Robin launched himself at Tim, knocking him over. Tim flipped the kid off, but what would have winded a normal kid just made that one rise with a growl, going after Tim again. Terry just watched, not sure what else to do. It was fascinating and wrong and he couldn't take his eyes off the fight, Robin against Robin, two angry kids with a lot of skill, though Terry actually thought the younger one had more training.
And then Dick got in the middle of them. Not just in the sense most people would, standing to block or to push the two fighters apart—he actually flipped himself right into the middle and took down both kids at once. Holding them both down with his feet, he folded his arms over his chest and glared at them.
“Enough. We do not have time for this right now. The city is still a mess, Bruce is still... missing, and I have a time displaced kid on my hands. Terry is not here to replace anyone, I am not training another sidekick—Tim doesn't need training—and Damian if you reach for that knife, so help me—”
The computer beeped, and Dick swore. “What is it, Oracle?”
“We have a situation.”
“Is it something Batgirl or the Birds can handle?” Dick asked, rolling back as the boys tried to move on him. They missed their grabs for his feet, but he caught them both by the collar and picked them up. “I have got a few too many kids in the batcave right now.”
“It's Arkham.”
Dick must have muttered a hundred more curses in that short time his eyes were closed. “The Joker.”
“Yes.”
“Where's Jason?”
“Where do you think?”
Dick let go of the Robins and pulled the cowl over his head. “You hear from the Justice League?”
“No.”
“Even better.”
“I can help,” Terry said. Everyone turned to stare at him. Even that creepy green face on the computer was staring at him. “I've faced the Joker before. And won.”
“You really haven't been at this very long,” Dick told him. “No one ever wins with the Joker.”